


Until the End of Time

by kalimero



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, M/M, Time Skips, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2210130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalimero/pseuds/kalimero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Ianto, all that came back was the tide. The Doctor raged against the dying of the light. And what Jack wanted, no one knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After a Year-That-Never-Was

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this five years ago (after COE had aired but _before_ The End of Time aired). At that time, I just wanted the characters to talk about their feelings so that's what this is. A character examination. Potentially whacky amidst the angst.
> 
> Chapter 1 is set after DW S3 / TW S1.
> 
> Chapter 2 is set after DW S4 (Easter Special) / TW S2.

Jack has been back for a few weeks now. More cheerful, less mysterious and just generally like he had the time of his life. But Ianto knows better.

They have started going out. Just yesterday they had their first real and proper date, a movie in the cinema – Jack remembered Ianto being an aficionado because of his dad –, a drink or two, great avant-garde… Well, let’s just say that Ianto won’t ever look at a hockey stick the same way.

He smiles to himself at the memory and watches the coffee machine work. Jack is still in bed, though not sleeping. Since he came back, he sleeps even less than before. Says he doesn’t need it because of his everlasting life energy and to a certain extent that might be true but Ianto knows that Jack is actually afraid of falling asleep. He figured as much when Jack fell asleep just the other night, probably involuntarily, and writhed and screamed as though being tortured, being ripped apart, mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath from which Ianto only picked up single words, words that vaguely sounded like “Master” and “Doctor”, he cried out in pain and yet didn’t awake. Jack has had nightmares before but never like that. His body was gripped by some far away dream that wouldn’t release him as if he was trapped in a cage of horrors from once ago, to be relived until the end of time.

Ianto just held him, hummed soothingly, smoothed his hair and felt Jack calm down in his arms. The next morning neither of them said a word. They didn’t talk about it.

Jack needs his time, Ianto knows that and he will wait, give it to him, time, ironically, one of the few things he has so very little of.

The coffee is ready and Ianto places the steamy mugs on a tray to carry them down to Jack. Room service. Jack would probably like him to put on a chambermaid-costume. Ianto smiles again at the mental picture, despite himself. He wonders where they are in their relationship now. They sure have come a long way, starting as a part-time-shag and now…

Ianto isn’t sure if he himself is ready to say those three infamous words, those words that could make it or break it, validate whatever they have or drive them apart. Those three words. “I love you”. Probably overrated. Or maybe not.

He doesn’t want to pressure Jack. To place unfair expectations on him. Hell, he isn’t even sure if Jack has ever been exclusive. For all he knows, Jack could always have had more than one lover at a time. No, if he is going to say “I love you” – and it’s not like it’s _that_ important, right? –, it’s going to be in a situation where he is convinced that Jack needs to hear it, to know it. Or when it’s his last chance, though he would prefer this not to be the case.

Jack probably won’t say it back. In all those scenarios he would corner Jack with his declaration of love, cross some unspoken border between them and Jack couldn’t admit to them without hurting himself further, killing himself a little with the love that will always turn to a loss for him. Jack has enough sense of survival not to do that. Maybe he will say it back later. When he’s less vulnerable, when he doesn’t have to put up defenses. Maybe.

Ianto puts the tray neatly on the nightstand before he slips back under the sheets to a welcoming Jack. He swallows his thoughts down and mirrors Jack’s smile as Jack kisses him hungrily, almost desperately. They still have time, he tells himself. They still have time.

 

\---

 

The purple sky sparkles brilliantly with bright stars and a cool breeze ruffles the Doctor’s hair that never stays in place anyway and seems to almost lead some kind of life of its own. Of course the Doctor knows that the stars don’t sparkle but that their light merely refracts in the atmosphere. He is about to say that when he realizes that there is no one with him. No one to talk to. No one to lecture. No willing pupil, no convenient company, no one to make him laugh or smile, to say something unexpected, to admire his knowledge, to tell him that the stars look beautiful no matter what and that no one cares about the scientific explanation and that he is a mood killer.

The Doctor still smiles but he thinks it must look like a sad smile and it quickly fades anyway. He isn’t sad. Why would he be?

Martha’s decision to stay with her family was completely rational, he can hardly fault her for that and all that personal stuff… well, that really is his fault, he knows it and if he is honest with himself he guessed as much even before Martha showed her bravery by addressing it – he just kind of chose to ignore it, to be oblivious because that was so much easier. Because he liked Martha. Because he thought that a stupid infatuation like that would quickly go away. Once again he underestimated human feelings, once again he proved that he doesn’t know a thing when it comes to these… things.

Anyway. What is done is done. Martha did what was best for her. And it’s not like he has problems to pick up someone new along the way. Stray dogs, Martha once called herself and the others. Must be true. Except for the fact that stray dogs don’t have a home and most of his companions do. Well, some. And if not, they find a new one. He can’t keep them, he knows that. For several reasons. And yet… Sometimes he wishes he could.

The Doctor takes a deep breath and marvels at the composition of the atmosphere. Tastes a bit like honey on his tongue. He came all the way to the Ceyx Constellation to see the Crystal Mountains here on Pheres III. He ended up preventing a war. Oh well. Could be worse, he muses as he watches the triple suns set one after another.

There is a strange kind of joy pulsing through him. Maybe because the good days where everything works have become less and less with this particularly troublesome incarnation of his. But then again, when hasn’t he been troublesome?

He should celebrate. Only with whom?

The Doctor feels the desperate need to share his joy with someone. To do something against that terrible hollow feeling, the emptiness in his head, the void where once upon a time the presence of Time Lords filled his mind.

And just with that the Doctor suddenly senses a presence. Strong. Different. Wrong, according to Time Lord standards and rules. Jack. Of course. He could go see Jack. Jack is always there. The Doctor hesitates. Jack declined his offer to travel with him again and he knows why. His invitation sounded compulsory, like an obligation, he couldn’t bring himself to make it sound as heartfelt as it was, not when he was making the offer to someone who had died for him and whom he had abandoned, he didn’t have the right to expect Jack to forgive him and much less come with him again, he didn’t have the right to tempt him against his better will and judgment and against his own good. So he made it sound weak. And Jack declined, naturally.

Since then the Doctor doesn’t know how welcome he is anymore. Jack has his own life, he made that much clear. Responsibilities. But now that the Doctor thinks about it, he knows that he has to talk to Jack again. He wants to. He wants to apologize properly for what he did, something he couldn’t quite manage even at the end of the universe, and he wants to explain what he meant when he said _wrong_. Or at least that _wrong_ isn’t so _wrong_ anymore, just _different_.

He wants Jack to forgive him. Though he guesses that the Captain already has. No, he knows that for sure. Maybe he hasn’t forgiven himself.

The Doctor enwraps himself in his coat – it is getting cold even for Time Lords – and enters the Tardis.

Yes, he will visit Jack.

An enthusiastic anticipation sweeps over him at the thought and he pulls at the lever giddily.

Jack. The fact. The fixed point in time and space. His friend, still. After everything. After everything he did to him.

And with that thought, something changes in the air. Suddenly it seems even colder than before. The Doctor swallows hard and tries to ignore a familiar dark feeling creeping up on him. It doesn’t quite work.

 

\---

 

“So, Jack is gone again?”

Gwen looks at him questioningly with a hint of disapproval apparent in her eyes and Ianto just stares at the CCTV screen showing a big blue box in the middle of the Plas, betraying no emotion. Then he turns off the screen.

“I don’t know. He just left.”

Ianto nods towards the visitor’s entrance. Gwen sighs.

“As fast as he could, am I right?”

“Actually, he hesitated until I told him that it’s okay. He promised to come back.”

At that Gwen’s eyes widen even more and she obviously bites back a comment. Instead she looks at Owen who just rolls his eyes as if saying _yeah sure, tea boy, keep hoping_ and the empathic Tosh who looks really uncomfortable and unsure of how to comment or what to do.

There is an awkward silence. A lot of strange noises filter through to them. Pipes creaking, water dropping, some buzzing, Myfanwy’s flaps…

Finally, Gwen speaks again.

“Right…” she says slowly. Worry is etched over her face with just a bit of indignation lying underneath. She was in charge while Jack was away and everyone in the room knows that she contemplates whether she should assume leadership again. They don’t know when the next threat will arise, they have to be prepared and ready for everything at every time – well, at least theoretically. They can’t allow for a power vacuum to emerge.

“We should give him some time.”

Ianto’s voice is quiet but firm and stoic although his emotions are still pretty obvious at least judging by Tosh’s expression. She looks at him with a mixture of pity and admiration. Owen just snorts.

If Ianto is honest with himself, he can barely contain the emotions boiling in him. He was never one for jealousy but right now he feels it white and hot, feels its nasty sting. Only Jack could bring out such strong reactions in him, Ianto suddenly realizes because he surely never felt like this before, not even with Lisa. He knows to whom this blue box belongs, he and Jack have talked a lot in the last weeks. Jack has told him a thing or two, about the Doctor, the Master, the Year-That-Never-Was – but they never really talked about Jack’s feelings.

They have to be strong, after all Jack waited about 150 years for this man – this alien – to show up again but Ianto was always under the impression that the Doctor was this wise and old man, a hero to Jack who looked up to him like a child would and maybe the Doctor really is a white-haired, world-saving grandpa. Ianto thought that Jack’s feelings concerning the Doctor were merely adoration and admiration and maybe gratitude for changing his ways. And isn’t the Doctor really this asexual superior god-like being? For all he knows Jack might even worship him.

But right now Ianto is sure that there is something different to Jack’s feelings. An attraction, maybe. At the same time he is sure that Jack never acted on those feelings. He doesn’t really know why but if Jack had, he wouldn’t behave so… well, he wouldn’t even be here anymore, Ianto guesses. Or wouldn’t drop everything in a single heart beat to race after this alien. Time Lord. What an ostentatious title.

And Ianto knows why he only feels jealous now. Because Jack left him again. He came back for him – which may have been one of the best days of his life – and they changed their relationship, started something somewhat serious and now Jack still left without a second thought. Well, that isn’t true, he hesitated but Ianto felt that it was more out of courtesy than anything.

Right now, Ianto feels like he is second best. Like the consolation prize. But he still has one hope left.

Because whatever love Jack has for the Doctor, it is quite obviously unrequited. Ianto doesn’t take joy in that, he wants Jack happy but the Doctor can’t make Jack happy or he would have and that leaves it to Ianto. And he clings to it.

Jack will come back.

“No surprise you would say that. Devoted as ever. Wouldn’t want to lose your boss and your boyfriend on the same day, would you? Oh, no difference there, sorry, my bad.”

Owen is more aggressive than usual but Ianto figures that it’s because he doesn’t know how else to deal with the situation.

It doesn’t matter anyway because barely two seconds later Jack enters the Hub.

 

\---

 

Great. Just great. That went just great.

The Doctor sighs exasperatedly and scratches his neck. Then he proceeds to just loosely fiddle with some buttons, not really caring what he does or where the Tardis will take him, doing it just to keep himself busy.

He had wanted to talk to Jack. He really had. But the moment he saw Jack appear on his screen, he knew he couldn’t do it. Sure, he could have had some trivial chat among friends but that wasn’t something he did and Jack would have been suspicious about a random social call, as well as he should have been.

No, what he couldn’t do was talk about himself, Jack, them, all those difficult… things. What he came here for.

Well, he also came to share his joy.

The Doctor grins at the memory of his successful intervention and the elevated feeling that accompanied it, the looks on the faces of the grateful war parties now looking into a future of peace and quiet. And then he remembers the look on Jack’s face just now, as he ran towards the Tardis.

In the silence of his dimmed time machine, the Doctor’s hearts break. Just a little. Because the expression on Jack’s face wasn’t one of happiness.

The Doctor doesn’t know what changed since they bid each other goodbye happily on the Plas and he isn’t sure if he wants to know.

All he knows is that he felt his feet go cold at the sight of Jack, that he realized that he had no right to intrude on Jack’s life without reason, without a proper reason. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t come and go as he liked and keep Jack from his work just by his presence. Or charm him with a retelling of his adventures to come with him again.

Jack’s work is important, his team is important or it is to him and so it is to the Doctor, too.

He won’t be a nuisance as he so often is – thus the Doctor reasons with himself.

Jack will understand. It’s for his best.

And with that he is gone.

Without having said even so much as _hello_.

 

\---

 

“Jack.”

Tosh is the first to speak again. A wave of relief washes over everyone of them and at the same time they are confused. Even Owen shuts his mouth. They just look expectantly at their leader who seems to be a bit short of breath.

Jack takes the scene in, eyeing them all, before he barks:

“Don’t you all have work to do?”

The smile on Tosh’s face freezes and she quietly scurries back to her workplace without another word. Owen decides that he doesn’t want to deal with this now and returns to his medical bay with a somewhat sour expression. All that commotion for nothing.

This leaves only Ianto and Gwen. Jack is already climbing the stairs to his office. Ianto is sure that Gwen would like to talk to Jack, she looks concerned and inquiring as she does so often but Ianto get’s there first.

“Could I have a word, Sir? In private?”

Surprised, Jack comes to a halt midway and turns around to face his employee. He slowly nods with a weak smile. His anger seems to have evaporated and now he only looks exhausted. Ianto hurries to catch up with him and doesn’t spare Gwen a second glance. Surely she will be disappointed. But this time it’s none of her business. Maybe he will talk to her later and pass on some of the information he gained from Jack. Maybe not. It’s not his place to decide who gets to know what. Jack has to do that.

They meet in his office.

Jack has already seated himself at his desk and Ianto closes the door slowly, suddenly wishing he knew what to ask or say. Apparently Jack is wondering the same thing.

“What’s up, pretty boy?”

Ianto clears his throat and his eyes meet Jack’s. Seconds pass by without neither of them saying anything. Finally Ianto speaks up albeit quietly. He doesn’t break eye contact. He also doesn’t move away from the door.

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

The name doesn’t need saying. Jack studies Ianto for a little while. He doesn’t answer immediately but the new built-up tension leaves his body and a tired smile touches his lips.

“Yeah. I guess the big blue box kinda gives it away.”

“Not at all, Sir. Big blue box in the middle of Cardiff at this time of the year? Completely normal. Nothing unusual there.”

Jack stifles a laugh.

And again there is silence between them, only this time it’s comfortable. Ianto takes a few steps forward, hesitates whether to sit down or not and in the end decides to remain standing. Jack isn’t in his most talkative mood but he just needs a bit coaxing.

“So… is he gone again?”

Jack’s smile falters ever so slightly and he looks down at whatever documents he has lying on his desk. When he looks up again his expression is impassive.

“Apparently. Guess he just needed to refuel. Which is – now that I think about it – better than impending doom, death and destruction. Because, you know, the end of the world usually follows in his wake. He’s kind of a problem-magnet.”

“You’re not disappointed then?”

“Why would I be? He’s not the type to say I mean, he could’ve said _hi_. Or to sing _Back for Good_ and dance naked in the rain, which reminds me of –“

“You love him?”

Ianto comes to sit down on the desk, giving Jack no space to escape. But after a moment of stun, Jack merely relaxes into a smile.

“It’s funny that none of you have ever asked me that but… yeah. Obviously. I don’t think I would’ve waited 150 years for some jerk or kept his hand in a jar and all that bordering-on-the-obsessive stuff.”

“But you aren’t disappointed that he just left.”

Jack sighs.

“Well, he actually _can_ be a jerk, so I’m not surprised.”

“That’s not the same as not being disappointed.”

“And _you_ can be a smartass, Mr. Three-piece-suit.”

“I thought you liked me that way.”

“Did I? Well if you say so, it must be true.”

Grinning, Jack places his hands on Ianto’s hips and pulls him closer.

“What’s with the question time, Ianto Jones? Don’t worry so much, screws up your pretty face.”

With that Jack taps his forefinger under Ianto’s chin and lifts his head a bit.

“Feeling jealous?”

The fact that Ianto doesn’t answer is answer enough and Jack’s features soften.

“I love him. It’s not a big deal. I’m a 51st century guy, I have a lot of love to give-“

At that, Ianto quirks his eyebrows because yeah, _no_. Too cheesy, man.

“- but it’s a different kind of love if that’s what you mean.”

Ianto swallows hard. They are just inches apart.

“If there’s one thing as big as my ego, it’s the size of my heart. Well, not accounting for something else…”

Jack smiles suggestively. He doesn’t even have to look down his body to underline his tacky words and Ianto just ever so slightly lifts an eyebrow.

“No, your ego is definitely bigger than the other two.”

“Care to put it to the test?”

Now Jack really is back on top of his game, grinning widely. He can feel Jack’s hot breath tickle his skin and their faces move even closer, almost closing the tension-ripped gap between them, their lips almost touching – before Ianto abruptly draws back. Confusion is written all over Jack’s face.

“So… I guess that’s a _no_?”

“Later, Captain Cheesecake.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, young man.”

Jack still looks a bit confounded but he releases him nonetheless. Ianto stands up quickly before he can change his mind and he is almost at the door when he suddenly turns back.

“What does he look like?”

“Hhm?”

Already having begun with his paperwork, Jack has difficulty bringing his attention back to Ianto or it’s just how he wants it to look.

“The Doctor.”

At that, Jack raises his head and pauses.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know it’s just… in case I ever meet him.”

Ianto shrugs and Jack stares at him as if he wanted to search his soul. Then he shrugs, too.

“Well, I know one thing: He doesn’t look his age.”

“Which would be again…?”

“Over 900. Years.”

“Right.”

“Which reminds me, I have to ask him for some beauty tips. Not that I need them. Not yet anyway.”

There’s this cheeky grin again. Ianto looks unimpressed and Jack sighs.

“He stays young and fresh with the occasional regeneration but if you really must know what he looks like at the moment, I can draw you a picture.”

“God, please, no. A description will be fine.”

“Let’s see… Brown hair, kinda wild, thin as paper but still an unexpectedly strong and agile build, must be the running, with a great taste in clothes – he’s like the best of the two of us combined, you know, suit plus coat – and oh, those adorable freckles…”

For a moment he looks lost in thought and then he smiles at Ianto reassuringly as if to let him in on a joke that Ianto feels isn’t one. Slowly he just nods. If Jack still wonders why Ianto asks him all these questions, he manages to hide it pretty well although he seems to be getting back into his bossy work-mode. Maybe deep down he knows why Ianto asks and that is the reason he answers all the questions.

“Can I go back to working now?”

Suddenly Jack gives off the strong vibe of not wanting to talk or even just think about the Doctor anymore, coated with a grin plastered over his face, and Ianto himself would prefer this topic to be over. They don’t talk about this a lot for a reason. Which is why he has to keep asking now. There is still one question left in him.

“Is he young?”

Ianto tries to convey no feeling, make the question sound casual, like an afterthought, spoken with a subdued voice. He isn’t sure he succeeded, shuffles his feet a bit, looks down and then up again.

Jack has folded his hands, perhaps to demonstrate his employee his frustration about not being able to get on with work.

“Uh, no? Over 900 years, remember? I could swear I just told you but I might be mistaken, after all I’m not the youngest anymore myself. Though naturally I don’t look it.”

“Yeah… _ego_.”

Unfazed Ianto rolls his eyes as a reminder of their previous conversation and Jack merely quirks an eyebrow in return.

“No, I mean, does he look young? In this incarnation.”

“Define young.”

Ianto has to bite back an _anything you would shag_ and instead opts for:

“Under 50?”

“Yup, by that definition he looks young. Not a toddler yet but you never know where his regenerations will take him, do you? Imagine that.”

“Right. I will. 900 year old baby with all the knowledge about time and space techno-babbling away. Consider it done.”

“Good. Now enough with the silly questions and back to work.”

“Yes, Sir.”

There is an amused spark in Jack’s eyes that dies down quickly. He tries to cover it up by studying some new alien artifact on his desk and taking notes. Ianto quietly bows out of the door and then he is gone.

Later that evening he will have to do some more cheering up, Ianto muses. And the first time he will get a good look at the Doctor, he will check Jack’s statements. Especially that _young_ -bit.

Though he has to admit that there is a small portion of him, a very small portion, that would prefer never to meet the Doctor.

Death and destruction follow in his wake, wasn’t that what Jack said?

Ianto is angry with this stranger for how he treats Jack and at the same time he can’t help but be intimidated by this _Doctor_. This alien. Whatever his real name is.

He deals with aliens daily. He can’t imagine how different the Doctor could be. But Jack kind of loves him and in the end that is all that’s important, even though it’s a different kind of love, so he will try to like him, too. And what really reconciles him is that he can give Jack something that the Doctor never could, even if he wanted to – himself.

Because the Doctor’s world revolves around the center of the universe.

And to Ianto, Jack is the center of the universe.

His own.


	2. When a Journey Ends, the Waiting Begins

As the door of the Tardis slams shut behind him, the Doctor immediately collapses against it and takes a deep breath. The sudden silence is almost deafening compared to the noise outside.

Well, that was a hunt alright – that’s all the Doctor is able to think of.

After a little while he slowly picks himself up and stumbles towards the console, coming to rest on the bench next to it. It is then that he sees the blood stains on his shirt.

Sighing heavily the Doctor inspects his wounds and sighs with relief when he is sure that they are not going to be fatal. Thank God. This is not how he wanted to go out, scratched by an arrow that still missed its target and killed the poor Duke of Swabia, Ernest, stone-dead. No, that would have been a rubbish way to bite the dust especially because he only landed there by accident. Nothing exciting on Earth in the year 1015. Not where he landed anyway. And of course everyone had to think he was the one who shot the arrow and so of course they had to chase him yelling “Murder! It was Adalbero! Adalbero!” (He could hardly use John Smith in that period setting, could he?).

The Doctor frowns and touches the wounds where they hit him as he was running away but they are not too deep. He has to stop getting himself into danger. He is attached to this particular body and incarnation and he doesn’t want to change yet. The Doctor thinks of the strange warning he got from the black woman, of all the foreshadowing signs, of this feeling in his gut that he isn’t going to last much longer but he ignores it. Or tries to. Because now in his weakened state, the Doctor is struck with a realization.

His song is coming to an end.

No matter how hard he is going to fight.

The Tardis hums soothingly as something that one might describe as tears blinds him but he blinks quickly and jumps to his feet, ready for action. If he is going to die, then he is going to seize the day.

Just as the Doctor sets new coordinates and decides that he should pay a visit to Horace some day, the repressed pain emanating from his wounds bursts open and shoots through his body.

And then darkness claims him.

 

\---

 

He can feel his legs go limp and his vision wavers. Gwen’s voice rings in his ears.

“Ianto, watch out!”

Everything goes dark for a second and Ianto wonders where the dizziness in his head came from all of a sudden. Then a great weight is lifted off him and he groans in pain.

“Are you okay?”

That is Jack’s concerned voice right there, he can hear it clearly though his vision is still blurred. And can’t Jack see that he is quite obviously not okay? Paradoxically the opposite words leave his mouth and he isn’t sure how he manages to even just mumble them:

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that? Here, let me.”

Something cold and damp is pressed against his forehead, someone gives him some water to drink and a pill to swallow and then his vision begins to clear, the heavy curtain that clogged his mind is lifted away and the first thing he notices are Jack’s lips on his. The kiss is quick and not as loving as he would like it to be but what the hell, who is he to complain?

“Passing on some life energy again, Sir?”

“What else?”

Jack winks playfully and Ianto is already starting to feel better.

“A sexually transmitted disease?”

“Funny.”

Ianto coughs and sobers pretty quickly as he sees the mess they have made.

“Did it escape?”

Neither Jack nor Gwen answer Ianto’s rhetorical question. He places a hand on his hip, rubs his eyes with the other, sighs and takes in the whole scene. A thread of desperation hangs over them.

“I’m sorry, it took me by surprise. Won’t happen again.”

“It’s not your fault.” Gwen quietly and firmly assures him, rubbing his back. Jack merely nods, putting his hand on Ianto’s shoulder, but Ianto knows that he is already thinking about how to continue this mission that went wrong from the start.

Since the… _demise_ of Tosh and Owen not too long ago, every mission has seemed to be a bit of a failure. It were always the little things that went wrong, the devil being in the details, like cogs missing in a cogwheel, take them away and the whole process collapses.

Still, Ianto knows that Tosh and Owen were expendable which makes everything just this tiny little bit more horrific than it already is. In time they will find replacements, they will adjust, life will go on and especially for Torchwood where every employee seems to have a maximum durability of 5 years at the most, excluding Jack. None of them is going to collect their pension, Ianto knows that. It doesn’t make it any better, though, knowing. Knowing and experiencing first-hand are two completely different things.

And just when they had thought that the dust had settled, that they would find some time to deal with the whole business properly now after that whole saving-the-planet-with-the-Doctor-from-the-Daleks-excitement, they arrived in the Hub this morning (it’s funny what a difference just two people can make in such a huge space to make one feel so much lonelier in it after their loss) to find that the Rift-Activity-Readings had gone mad. And soon after that they found out that a specimen of a species Tosh was investigating was running around in Cardiff.

She had named the species _waterpillar_ and was doing some research on it in her spare time. They tracked the alien down, using some new alien technology, and confronted it in this little storage room next to a warehouse at the port. What a smashing success that plan had proven to be.

It escaped pretty much unseen and now they still don’t have a clue what they are chasing.

Ianto studies Jack as he is thinking of their next step. He can see how much he wishes the Doctor were here to tell him what to do. It’s strange, Jack was never like that before, he can handle things on his own but Tosh’s and Owen’s deaths must have hit him harder than he cares to admit, Ianto thinks. Because ever since, he has seen that look in Jack’s eyes more and more, the fear of losing control, of endangering the people around him. Ianto always tries to calm him when they are alone, to tell him that it’s not his fault and that people die and that he can do nothing about it, the usual, and then Jack asks him what he were to do if he were to die and Ianto replies that he were to keep his coffee in good memory. And then Jack goes silent and dimmed pain flashes over his eyes. It’s always then when he is most vulnerable that the years he has lived through seem to pile up behind the mirrors of his soul until they turn dark. Black. Blank.

“Hey, guys, what’s this?”

Gwen holds up something that looks suspiciously like a piece of junk.

“It’s a piece of junk.”

Jack takes it, throws it away carelessly and looks at Gwen as if he just had to explain something to a 6-year-old.

“Oh, well, sorry for being the only one trying to do something. You guys just bloody stand there and brood.”

She throws up her arms in exasperation and Jack and Ianto exchange a slightly guilty look. It’s Jack who speaks up again apologetically.

“I was just coming up with a cunning plan B.”

It comes out less convincing than he would like and under Gwen’s stare he falters even more until it’s Jack who sighs exasperatedly and throws up his arms. He raises his voice.

“What do you want me to do? It was Tosh’s pet project – God knows how many she had – and I haven’t seen this alien before in my life. I’m trying here, okay?”

Yeah, the desperation hangs in the air, Ianto decides. He slips his hand into Jack’s to give him some comfort and Gwen suddenly looks sad and tired. She slowly closes her eyes and when she opens them again she seems to have gained enough power to speak albeit quietly.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Jack. It’s just… what good have we done since they are gone? I mean, we can’t even catch a so-called _waterpillar_ anymore. One blasted specimen. And supposedly harmless, I might add. We are like _amateurs_ all of a sudden.”

“It takes time to work out the new dynamics.”

“We are doing them a disservice!”

“What, by not functioning as well without them?”

“No, by not functioning at all. Not in any way. They died working for Torchwood, this great organization investigating alien life, yes? Well, a bloody load of good Torchwood is now. This is what they died for? For our incompetence? For us not being able to do our bloody jobs? I don’t know, Jack. I just…”

Now there are tears shimmering in her eyes.

“It’s not fair. They should have died saving the world.”

“They did.”

“Yes but only for the world to be in danger again and again and again. Look around, Jack. Don’t you see it? It will never stop. Even their deaths couldn’t stop it permanently and I guess that is how the world works, the apocalypse knocking on the door of earth only to be fought back over and over again and yet… what cause did they give themselves for? Why did they have to… I mean, _why_ …”

She is crying. Jack pulls her into a tight hug and releases her only when she has calmed down. Ianto doesn’t say a word and watches them silently.

Gwen suppresses her sobs and Jack looks defeated and at the same time determined. Ianto knows what he is about to say.

“Gwen, I want you to listen to me. _Listen_ to me. Death doesn’t always have a cause. Sometimes it has no reason at all. It could be prevented by chance, by things happening in a different order, by a butterfly flapping its wings a few hours earlier. We would like to think there is something like fate. Well, there isn’t. And now think about Tosh and Owen dying to save the world, dying not in vain, going out as the heroes they were, even if they will be unsung just like everybody else who has ever worked for Torchwood. Is it fair? Fuck no, it’s not. But believe me, Gwen, I have seen far worse. They were the lucky ones. And you know what? Even then… if I could bring them back somehow, I would, I swear to you I would in a heartbeat.”

“Pity then that you can’t. We’ll have to manage. They are not here to help us. And neither is your Doctor –“

“Did someone mention me?”

The stunned remains of Torchwood Three are greeted by that familiar toothy grin that fits the mood like K’lakthakhar fashion Non-K’lakthakharians, namely not at all.

“Uh… Doctor?”

“Yup, that’s me. Charming smile and all. Mind you, the Zygons were never big fans of me although I guess you could say that for most life forms I’ve encountered, anyway, you’re Gwen Cooper, right? Nice to meet you. You know, properly, in person, with shaking hands and everything. Oh, I love you humans and your greeting rituals. Funny how they differ from country to country and yet are totally the same.”

Gwen shakes his extended hand though she cannot bring herself to smile as politely as she would like with everything happening so quickly. Ianto reads her expression as bewilderment and guesses that – would Gwen believe in magic – she’d believe the Doctor to be a magician for appearing out of thin air. He himself is unsure what to think of their unexpected visitor.

They met the Doctor for the first time a month ago, only two weeks after the loss of Tosh and Owen but they only talked via what the red-haired woman (Ianto is pretty sure that her name was Donna) called an _outer space facebook_. Meeting the Doctor in person now, all of a sudden… well, Ianto really doesn’t know what to say.

“And you must be Ianto Jones. I like _Jones_ , _Jones_ is good.”

The Doctor smiles his insane smile and Ianto takes his offered hand, only to notice how incredibly skinny the Doctor really is and what power he yet radiates, that strange superior aura. And then Ianto realizes that the Doctor is drenched in water with some blood stains showing and suddenly he senses nothing of a superior aura anymore.

“Yup, that’s me.”

The Doctor gives him an amused look that says _I see what you did there_ and then struts across the room – not paying Jack any attention – grabbing the piece of junk that Jack had dismissed earlier. Ianto again wraps his hand around Jack’s after he had to let go to greet the Doctor. Jack is just slightly more tensed than before.

“Blimey, is this a semi-hazardous pathogen-producing exemplar of I-don’t-know-what decreasing in value? Brillant.”

Gwen clears her throat.

“I thought it was just a piece of junk.”

The Doctor beams at her.

“Oh it is. Isn’t that brilliant?”

And with that he throws it away again.

“Yeah…”

Something is definitely off and Ianto knows that Jack can feel it too. And the Captain is the first to address it and although there is humor in his voice, the concern in his eyes betrays him. Maybe there is also a hint of annoyance, Ianto can’t tell.

“So, Doctor, to what do we owe the honour of this visit?”

Jack looks at the Doctor pointedly who in turn just tugs awkwardly at his earlobe.

“Ah, well, yes, umm, good question. Better question yet, what was an Anydros doing here, running around not knowing where to go or what to do or why it’s being chased? Poor things, those… Anydroses.”

“Anydros?”

The word rolls off Jack’s tongue only reluctantly.

“Okay, so you’re saying that thing was an Anydros. Whatever that is, never encountered them before. What was it doing here?”

“They are not called _waterpillars_ , then? For shame, I liked it.”

“Waterpillars?”

The Doctor looks at Gwen incredulously and she returns the look nervously like someone called up in school by the teacher and not really knowing the answer.

“Well, that is – was – our name for it. To- she gave it to the creature. Doesn’t matter. Ignore me. Just go on with your big-boys-business.”

“Right…”

Gwen subtly shuffles to stand in the background, shooting Ianto an embarrassed glance. He only smiles amused at the confused expression on the Doctor’s face.

“Doctor, the Anydros.”

“Ah, yes, thank you for the reminder, Jack.”

Jack’s hand twitches in Ianto’s and Ianto doesn’t know if it is merely because of the use of his name instead of _Captain_ or because of something deeper being invoked. Maybe it’s just in his imagination.

“You see, Anydroses really have it bad from the moment they are born – or rather bred. Anyway. The thing is, they suffer from a permanent dehydration. But normally that wouldn’t be a problem. Worse things happen at sea – hehe. No, the problem is that they don’t have a home planet anymore. It was basically just water. They lived in it not like fish but like mammals here on earth do, like… whales. It was a pretty happy life, I suppose, lots of water to drink and absorb – they are great drinkers and please Jack don’t make a comment like _they should go meet the AA, would solve their problems_ because really, the drinking isn’t the problem, it’s part of the solution for their genetic misfortune… but I digress. It was blown to smithereens – the home planet that is – and they survived but now they are mostly bred by other species for their purposes.”

“But why?”

“Don’t you ever need a sponge?”

Ianto can’t tell if the Doctor is serious or not and he doesn’t know if he wants to know. He gives Jack another squeeze with his hand and Jack sighs although there is a trace of a smile on his lips.

“Alright Doctor, you can save us the rest of the techno-babbling –“

“I wasn’t techno-babbling!”

The pout that the Doctor puts on is quite remarkable, Ianto decides.

“Okay, you weren’t techno-babbling. What I want to know is this: What brought that Anydros to earth and how are we going to get rid of it – in a nice, safe and friendly way of course, assuming it is benign.”

“Well, for starters, I don’t have the slightest clue how that Anydros got here. I mean, I really don’t. My guess is as good as yours. I mean, she – it was a _she_ – didn’t know herself. Which brings me to your second point: You won’t have to get rid of her because I already did.”

For a brief moment the room is only filled with dumbfounded silence. To Ianto it is a miracle how the Doctor manages to smile so smugly and yet totally sincere. But then again he isn’t sure if he is reading the Doctor correctly because Jack seems to observe him in a totally different way. Maybe it is just the knowing look of someone long acquainted.

“That would explain the wetness…” Jack says slowly and gestures with his free hand vaguely at the Doctor’s clothes. Perplexed the Doctor follows his gaze.

“What? Oh. _Oh_. Yes. Sorry. Totally forgot.”

“And the blood-“

“Oh, no! No, no, no. Nothing to do with that. Just the water.”

“Okay… then where are they-“

“Nah. Long story and when I say long, I mean very long.” Pause. “Or maybe not so very long.” Pause. “Or maybe not long at all but still – it would you bore you to death. And we can’t have that, can we? Now, that would be at least another very creative death to add to your list, Jack, death by boredom. Better than stray javelin. Right. Anyway. I better get going again, I mean I landed here totally by accident, well, not really, I wanted to ask for your help, Jack, but I see that you have enough on your hands, so don’t be bothered and carry on with what you’re doing or whatever you are doing when you are not doing what you were just doing and yeah, great to meet you two, Gwen, Ianto, I’m sure Jack only picks the best, so good luck to you but you probably won’t need it and yeah – I’m off then. Bye.”

With a quick wave the Doctor is already on his way out, watched by the completely confused Torchwood Three Team, when he suddenly staggers. Jack is by his side faster than the light and catches him before he hits the ground. Ianto stretches his hand in search for the familiar warmth that was just there moments ago but all he feels is a sudden cold. He coughs and then he keeps Gwen from walking over by grabbing her arm and silently shaking his head. He hopes she understands and it seems as though she does.

“You know, Doctor, stunts like that aren’t particularly funny.”

The Doctor smiles as if in pain.

“Not?”

“Do you see anyone laughing?”

“I suppose not. Oh well, it was worth a try.”

He reaches out to stand up again but Jack has to grab him by his shoulders to keep him from falling.

“Didn’t you just listen to me? It’s _not_ funny!”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to shout, I can hear you quite clearly.”

“Oh, really? Sorry then, seemed to me like you hadn’t understood anything at all. My bad.”

The Doctor only nods in response.

“So, what is it you need my help with?”

“Nothing important.”

“That’s up for me to decide. Well?”

“Just something to do with a tree, as I said, it’s not important. Really, it’s not.”

“A tree?”

“Am _I_ supposed to shout now?”

“No, fine, a tree. Anything more precise?”

“Just… think of it as something similar to… decorating a Christmas tree.”

“Uh-huh. And you need my help with that?”

“It’s a big tree.”

“Sounds awfully domestic to me.”

“Well, that’s because of your bad hearing. We’re not actually decorating a Christmas tree. Obviously. I don’t even like Christmas trees, they are nothing but trouble, you should’ve seen their behavior on Christmas past… past. Anyway. It’s not important. It’s not world-saving or earth-shattering. It’s not even as important as having a cup of tea regularly, now that is important, almost as important as putting up enough shelves.”

“Still, you can’t do it alone.”

There is a brief silence.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a first.”

“Oh, Captain Jack Harkness, you haven’t known me for long enough then.”

“Where have you parked your Tardis?”

Startled by the interruption, the Doctor and Jack turn to look at Ianto who has stepped forward and clears his throat again in a polite manner.

“I mean, Sir, with all due respect, you don’t seem to be in the best health – although I might be mistaken there, I don’t know a whole lot about Time Lord-biology – and I was just thinking about how to get you to your ship the easiest way. Am I right in assuming that your self-healing powers accelerate when you are in your vessel?”

At that the Doctor offers Ianto a weak smile.

“You are quite right in assuming so. Very good thinking, Ianto. And conveniently – as the clever man I am – I parked the Tardis pretty close. Just around the corner in fact.”

“Then I propose we take you there and our Captain helps you with your endeavour and then you bring him back safely to... us.”

The smile has vanished from his lips but now there is a strange knowing glow in the Doctor’s eyes and he nods slowly.

“Quite right. I see you really only choose the best, Jack.”

“The very best.”

Jack shares a deep look with Ianto and then supports the still fragile Doctor until he is able to walk on his own somewhat.

“Okydoky. Sounds like a plan. To the Tardis we go. Allons-y!”

And as they make their way through the storage room and the warehouse, Ianto can’t help but think of all the things he knows Jack wants to discuss with the Doctor. Things he has been wanting to discuss thoroughly since a long time. Things to do with immortality and how to cope with the death of people you care about. Ianto is sure that Jack would like to tell him that he lost members of his crew, that he fears for everyone else, that he still has nightmares although they are not that bad anymore. And Ianto hopes that the Doctor will listen for once, so that Jack may find some peace and redemption in his fate. His curse.

He really hopes.

But deep down, he knows that he hopes in vain.

Because some things are not that simple.

If they were, the path to heaven would not be paved by hell.

 

\---

 

Alone again. Almost at least.

The Doctor lets out the breath he has held since Jack agreed to come with him. They are in the Tardis now and he already feels better by far.

Jack is setting the coordinates the Doctor gave him and doesn’t look his way. For a moment the Doctor contemplates changing his wet and blood-stained attire but he decides against it. Sitting on the bench, he feels exhausted and like he is just powering up again and Jack won’t mind anyway.

“You’re going to catch your death if you stay in these clothes.”

On the surface it is said without any emotion and Jack has his eyes fixed on the screen but the Doctor thinks he can hear a little bit of concern. And indignation. And joy. And confusion. Or maybe those are all things he would like to hear and because he doesn’t hear them, he is imagining them.

The Doctor raises his eyebrows questioningly when Jack turns to look at him and rethink his words.

“You’re going to catch your regeneration?”

The Doctor shakes his head.

“Tell me you can get a cold.”

“Well…”

Intelligently, the Doctor scratches his earlobe. If he is honest with himself, he never thought about it. Of course he has been sick in his lifetime – why else would the Tardis need a sick bay? – but it’s not a common occurrence and a simple cold? Yeah, no.

Still, Jack crosses his arms defiantly with a smug expression on his face and the Doctor sighs. Knowing that any further protest would be futile, he casts off his coat and then his jacket. The smug expression turns even smugger if that’s humanly possible but at the same time Jack looks just the slightest bit surprised. The Doctor returns the look quizzically and genuinely irritated. Humans and their mixed signals.

“What?”

Jack raises a hand as if to wave the question away but stops in mid-motion.

“Nothing, just…”

He gestures at the Doctor’s whole being and then the room in general.

“Well, Captain Jack Harkness, that’s not nothing, that’s a whole lot of… a lot so you better tell me whatever you want to tell me or shut up because I am the Doctor and I have a whole lot of… a lot important stuff to do.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know, calibrating the thermostat, reversing the polarity of the neutron flow-“

“You’re techno-babble doesn’t work with me, remember?”

“Oh, I remember a lot.”

There it is again, the toothy grin, and Jack smiles despite himself.

“Charming as ever.”

Now the Doctor has joined him at the console and for a moment it seems as though he is lost in whatever he is doing with that lever he is pulling. He has taken out his glasses and eyes all the buttons casually.

“When did you start stealing my lines?”

It takes a second for Jack to get what the Doctor is referring to.

“I don’t remember you being so sassy. Or having an ego as big as mine.”

The reply merely earns a scowl and a slightly lopsided smile creeps onto Jack’s lips as the Doctor purses his lips in a mock-pout.

“Ego? I don’t even know what that means, I mean… of course I know what it means, I speak five billion languages including Latin but-“

“You still haven’t taken off your shirt.”

“What?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“What? No, I’m – no! What do you mean, take off the shirt? I like this shirt.”

“You know that sometimes you’re like a little child?”

The insult shuts the Doctor up. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish on dry land, unable to come up with a witty response. Jack sighs.

“Your shirt is soaked so unless you want to die of a cold…”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, I know but you took off your coat, didn’t you? So stop being a wuss and go all the way.”

“I’m not-“

“Unless Time Lords have a concept of shame that I wasn’t aware of.”

“Ah well, Jack, not everyone can be like you.”

“Yeah, now that’s a shame. I promise I won’t look.”

The look the Doctor gives him says it all and Jack raises his hands defensively.

“Not even peek. I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can, I’m not sure you would but that’s not the problem anyway.”

“But there is a problem?”

Awkwardly, the Doctor tugs at his sleeves and stares at the ground. He doesn’t know how to explain to Jack that he likes his clothes, that he keeps them on, that they protect him because they are part of his identity, that he likes to add layer to layer because then he never has to be fully exposed and weak. He thinks of his third incarnation that also felt the importance of clothes, how they define him and how he feels lost without them, a shell without a soul, a past without a present. And then he thinks of the Brigadier and how similar he and Jack are and yet so different.

“I just like to keep my clothes on, that’s all.”

The Doctor spouts it a little too vehemently. Jack shakes his head. Why are they still talking about this? Dealing with the Doctor really reminds him of dealing with a child right now.

“You could try putting on a new – _dry –_ shirt. Or two. Unless that’s the only one you have which would be really sad.”

“Why would it be sad?”

Only the Doctor could genuinely question this. But put like this, he finally sees the merit of Jack’s argument.

“Okay then. Go fetch me a shirt.”

“Eh, are you still speaking to me?”

Jack actually has to laugh at the audacity of the Doctor who looks at him innocently while loosening his tie.

“Do I look like your manservant? I don’t know what kind of orders you give your companions but I’m not one of them.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop in an instant. The Doctor is sure that Jack can see the hurt in his eyes although he tries to guard it.

“Right. Right, you’re not. Silly me, thinking you were somewhat of an on-and-off companion, you know, a trip here and there. Special status due to your… condition. Which of course still means that I shouldn’t order you around and I wasn’t trying to, I was… I’m sorry if it came across that way. Whatever.”

Jack uses all his self-restraint not to roll his eyes. The Doctor can be a manipulative bastard all right.

“Is the wardrobe still where it was the last time?”

Suddenly the Doctor feels guilty. It is a familiar feeling to him (understatement) but he still hates it. His pride keeps him from telling Jack that his pain is still too strong to properly stand up (he’s more like clinging to the console) and get the shirt himself and yet he feels awful for commanding such loyalty when he doesn’t deserve it. Jack’s expression has gone slightly cold, too, for whatever reason.

“It hasn’t moved.”

The words are almost whispered.

Jack disappears and when he reappears with the shirt, his expression has softened again. The Doctor however changes as quickly as he can and tries not to let the joy of not travelling alone, even if it is only temporary, overwhelm him. Instead he keeps his distance, refrains from constantly bantering with Jack as they so often did during their travels back in the old days when they were working on the Tardis together or just having a laugh. It almost works. Almost.

“So… where are we going?”

A reasonable question, the Doctor has to admit. He’s already starting to feel better, lazily lounging on the bench again, inspecting one of the recently broken engineering connection parts that looks like a clockwork on alien steroids.

“Pheres III in the Ceyx Constellation. Oh, you should see the Crystal Mountains when the triple suns set. They shimmer like kaleidoscopes, all those colours, they are the most beautiful I have ever seen… well almost… well… ah, well, nevermind. They’re beautiful. But we are not here to see them anyway. We are here to-“

“Decorate a Christmas tree.”

“No – thanks for interrupting. We are here to do something with a tree – don’t look at me like that – that was once planted as a symbol for peace, love and understanding. Oh, don’t you also love that song from Elvis Costello? Molto bene.”

“What does _do something_ entail exactly?”

“As I understand it, it’s a ritual-sort-of-thing– “

There is a bleeping signal filling the room all of a sudden and the Doctor jumps to his feet and to the control, now seemingly bursting with energy again. In truth he feels tired, oh so tired. Still, he doesn’t need Jack to see this.

“Oi, looks like we’ve reached our destination. À la bonne heure! Let’s take a look outside.”

And before Jack can say anything in return, the Doctor has already ran across the room, reached for the door and opened it. The Captain grabs the Doctor’s coat and then follows slowly, rolling his eyes.

It has been a good hundred years since the Doctor was here the last time. The last time being when he prevented the war on this planet. For him it has been some time, too, in his own personal timeline. Not a hundred years but still… Things have changed. He can feel every bone in his body, this body, that had to endure so much in such a short period already. Suddenly he feels careless. Reckless even. And yet he knows that he couldn’t change his way of life for anything in the world. He was close when he could have had the Master as his… _protégé_ of sorts but no. If something had to change in the past to keep him going, it was his body. His being. And it always will be.

Jack steps out of the Tardis and comes to stand beside him. Without a word he hands him his coat and, as the Doctor doesn’t take it, places it carefully on his shoulders. Reluctantly the Doctor slips into the not-so-wet-anymore-coat while Jack puts some distance between them again. In silence, they both face a pale lake, seemingly stretching out before them into infinity, only to border black soil short of the horizon. There isn’t a stir in the water, the smooth surface mirroring a silver-grey sky, washing out into a dark azure, illuminated not by three suns but by one lucid moon, touched by gold. And there, on the shore of the lake, stands a tree. Its wood is ebony and it has only a few strong branches, carrying deep blue flowers. The ground around the tree is littered with blooms whisked away by the wind.

“It’s beautiful.”

Jack is the first to speak again. They still don’t look at each other but ahead.

“Told you so.”

“But I’m a bit disappointed. No Crystal Mountains.”

“Oh, yes, sorry, they’re on the other side of the planet. Didn’t think of that.”

“You’re losing your touch, old man. Didn’t you say something about triple suns either?”

“I’m going to graciously ignore that insult and yes, I did. Thank you for reminding the old man. But it’s night, so: Moon. If we’re lucky, we might catch the sunrise. I love a good sunrise.”

“It’s pretty cold.”

“It’s night.”

“It’s still colder than on Earth.”

“Have you ever been to Siberia?”

“Point taken but Doctor, really, no one likes a smart ass.”

For the first time, they look at each other, both with a grin on their face. Then Jack’s gaze wanders skywards. His breath barely even condenses in this air. The Doctor wonders whether he can feel the taste of honey on his tongue, too. Jack’s voice becomes rasp and hushed as he stares in awe.

“No stars though.”

He swallows and inhales sharply before turning to the Doctor again, maybe waiting for an explanation, probably not.

“No, no stars. I mean, of course there _are_ stars, it’s just that we don’t see them. Atmospheric densification in the higher spheres, must have changed the Mie scattering as well as the diffusion of the star radiation, now they just sort of _blend in_. Must have happened in the last one hundred years because last time I was here, I stood under a purple star-studded sky.”

“So, you’ve been here before?”

“Sorry, didn’t I mention that?”

“Must’ve forgot. Old man.”

Jack is only slightly amused and the Doctor tries his best innocent-puppy-expression. It seems to work because Jack quickly gives up with a sigh. He glances towards the lake and the tree and then back to the Doctor.

“Well?”

“Right. Eh… so, I was here a long time ago-“

“How long?”

“Oh, will you stop interrupting me? How should I know?”

For a split second, missing a beat, there is silence.

“You are a Time Lord?”

The Doctor exasperatedly opens his mouth to reply but although his lips twitch he can’t say anything until after a little while when he’s finally able to formulate somewhat indignantly:

“ _De facto_ you’re right but that doesn’t mean I keep track of my own timeline, in fact I’m terrible at it, and besides, I don’t even measure time the way you humans do or do you see me wearing a watch?”

“Okay. You can calm down now.”

A part of the Doctor wants to lash out defensively at the way Jack is talking to him, as if he were a child, but the other part – the biggest part of him that is winning out – just wants to laugh at himself and at the careful and supposedly calming look on Jack’s face. He ruffles his own hair instead and sighs.

“Sorry.”

“You know, you say that too often. Now, what I just want to know is at what point this happened in your CV because it could have happened when you were still a different man, if you catch my drift. Nothing precise, just roughly.”

“Oh. _Oh_. You meant that. Well, I was me, I mean, I wasn’t a different… I wasn’t different. It was shortly after Christmas, you know, the Christmas with the Titanic almost crashing into the Buckingham Palace.”

“Ah, yes, such fond memories.”

“Yeah, well, I had just lost a lot of people, Astrid for example, Astrid Perth, a woman who just wanted to see the stars and travel amongst them. Dead. Anyway. I didn’t pick up a companion after that, I travelled alone for some time – not too long in the end, of course, because then I met… Donna, I met Donna, _again_ , but that was after I landed here. To cut a long story short, there was a war brewing and I got the opposing camps to sign a peace treaty. Easy-peasy. Case closed.”

The Doctors forces a smile onto his lips but it isn’t entirely happy. When is it ever though?

Jack meanwhile takes the information in. He raises his head as a magenta bird-like animal flies by without making a sound, being eerily out of place amidst the serenity of the landscape and yet fitting in.

“And what are you doing here now?”

“We. You mean, we.”

The Doctor says it as if he is almost afraid of Jack’s reaction, reluctantly studying him, but Jack has adapted a quite stoic look, almost never betraying emotions when he doesn’t want to. The Doctor guesses that the time on Earth has taken its toll. That time on Earth that he was waiting for him. In a way he doesn’t want to know what Jack experienced during those 150 years because he knows that the guilt would crush him but then again he feels like he is being selfish and that a little more guilt would add up to nothing. In fact, the Doctor wonders why he hasn’t adapted to the guilt better, given his own long life. Though it never seemed to bother him when he was younger, it was just after the Time War that he… the Doctor swallows and risks a glance at Jack whose skin looks like marble in the bright moon light. Somehow every invisible force clashes around Jack when the Doctor looks at him, on the outside everything at peace and on the inside an ongoing conflict, fueled in the perception of the Doctor by Jack’s wrongness. Or impossibleness, how the Doctor prefers to call it. And suddenly he knows that now is the moment to say what he should have said long ago. What he wanted to say.

“Jack…”

The Doctor’s hope that Jack would turn around and face him, proves to be in vain. Well then.

“I, uh… I guess I never… No, I know I never… apologized. Properly apologized.”

“For what?”

And now Jack looks at him and he sees in his eyes that he knows exactly what the Doctor is talking about. But he is going to make him say it. And the Doctor can’t really fault him for that, although he wishes this were easier. All of this.

“For… oh, you know, abandoning you, above all.”

Jack doesn’t even blink, shows no reaction at all, just holds his gaze. The silence around them is deafening and the Doctor takes a deep breath, burying his trembling hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry. I am… _truly_ sorry.”

There. It’s out. And the Doctor decides that it wasn’t so bad after all. He sighs with restrained relief and eagerly waits for Jack’s reaction. For a moment he wonders whether Jack has heard him at all.

“You can stop saying that.”

_But I can’t stop feeling it._

The words are already on the Doctor’s tongue but he swallows them back as he watches his friend who has lowered his head and fixates the ground. And the Doctor knows that Jack doesn’t mean what he said, not really, it was too softly spoken. When Jack looks up again, the truth is etched across his face.

_About time._

Still, he looks much softer than before as if a mask has broken.

“Right.”

“So, what are _we_ doing here?”

“Oh, yeah, right, sorry, totally forgot. Oh, sorry, I wasn’t supposed to say _sorry_ anymore. Ah, that darn word, it keeps creeping up on me. It’s unfair, I can’t help it. Anyway, moving on. Thing is, I recently received a message from the people of this world. Apparently one hundred years ago they planted that tree to commemorate the newfound peace and… well, in honour of me. I know, crazy. Worshippers are the worst. As I told Blon Fel-Fotch, I’d make an awful God. But they send me that message that now the tree would be ready for an anniversary ceremony and knowing that I’m not short-lived they wrote to me in the hope that I would be able to attend. And as part of that ceremony they wanted me to perform a ritual with the tree – oh, really, don’t look at me like that, you’re disgusting, Jack – and well, they said that I could bring a guest and that that might speed up the ritual, so… here we are.”

“I don’t see a party.”

“It’s not a party, it’s a ceremony.”

“Yeah but you need people for that, too.”

“I, uh, guess so. Might have something to do with the unusual time of day.”

“Are you sure that you set the coordinates right?”

“Actually I seem to remember _you_ setting the coordinates. But I checked when we arrived. Right time, right place. For a change.”

“So… where is everyone?”

“I have no idea. And I have no idea if that’s something brilliant or alarming.”

“I’d say go with _alarming_. But, Doctor… that’s the problem.“

“What?”

“Why are _we_ here, Doctor? You know that for the longest time there was nothing I wanted to do more than travel with the Tardis but now I have my own team to think of and given the hard time we just went through I think I would’ve liked to stay with them unless it was something important. I knew it wasn’t going to be something earth-shattering or world-saving but this is… nothing. Of all the times to call for my help, you choose this? Can you even tell me _why_?”

So many things left unspoken between them are now battling to break to the surface. The Doctor knows he should ask what Jack means with _hard time_. He doubts it has anything to do with the Davros-business. The expression in Jack’s eyes indicates that there is so much he would like to tell him, so much Jack would like to talk about with the Time Lord. But the Doctor also sees resentment and maybe even self-loathing in Jack’s eyes and that is something he never wanted to see or wants to see again. Ever. Jack is supposed to love himself.

_“I could go meet myself.” – “The only man you’ll ever be happy with.”_

Jack is not the self-loathing type. The Doctor is or so he reasons with himself. No, he’s not sure that he wants to talk about whatever Jack wants to talk about. But then again, he has to ask, has to show an interest, although it sounds almost like his invitation on the Plas just after the Year-That-Never-Was. Compulsory. Weak.

“What do you mean, _hard time_?”

The faint, sad smile on Jack’s lips tells the Doctor that he didn’t even notice him talking. Jack is caught up in his own thoughts, staring into the distance, speaking quietly, strangely amused.

“It’s always something important with you.”

The smile on his lips freezes and then Jack turns to the Doctor again, addressing him directly, breaking the spell.

“You never go back to the places you’ve been, not unless the universe is about to collapse. And an invitation to a strange little celebration of you doesn’t cover that. Something’s up. What is it? Why are _you_ here?”

For a moment the Doctor doesn’t know what to say. He is stunned into silence. Then he smiles and when he looks at Jack, it is as if he sees him for the first time. Another one of the magenta birds flies over the lake, brushing the water and disturbing its tranquil surface. It draws delicate circles, the waves barely even making a noise. As the Doctor sees the animal, he can’t stop himself from feeling a little bit of happiness. Knowing, that the other specimen is not alone, that it’s not the only one of its kind.

He sighs and first rubs his eyes tiredly, then his neck. He returns his attention to Jack who is still waiting for an answer, maybe growing a bit impatient. Maybe not. If you ever needed anything with the Doctor, it’s patience.

“I suppose…”

The Doctor trails off, thinking again. This is not the kind of conversation he usually has. It’s not a conversation he wants to have. Time is too precious for that. But this is Jack and doom is pending over him and if there ever was a time to talk about feelings and unimportant, so very human stuff, it’s now. Now that it feels like his time is running out.

“I suppose I wanted to witness the good I do, for a change. The fruits of my labour. See it with my own eyes. Convince myself that not everything I touched burned, that my legacy isn’t just death and destruction. Such a nice alliteration, _death_ and _destruction_.”

Jack studies the Doctor and the Doctor has to avert his gaze. He doesn’t like being scrutinized.

“Is it because of what Davros said?”

“Hhm? Nah, I mean, yeah, kind of, but it’s more because of…”

“Because of what?”

The Doctor isn’t sure he wants to tell Jack of the warning he received and how it drives him bananas believing it. That he startles when he hears more than one knock and that he counts them.

“Well, I guess you could call it… I mean, it’s just a little superstition, it’s nothing, really.”

“I never had you pegged as the superstitious type.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Jack snorts.

“C’mon, Doctor, just tell me. It’s not just superstition, is it?”

The earnestness in Jack’s eyes is enough for the Doctor to be overcome by guilt for not confiding in his friend. Of course he doesn’t confide in anyone but if he were to trust somebody, it would be Jack – that much the Doctor knows for sure.

“Stubborn, are we?”

“You’re the one to talk.”

“If you must know… I think I don’t have much longer.”

Once again, Jack’s expression is unreadable but when he speaks, his voice is rich with repressed emotions.

“You think you’re going to die?”

“Possibly. Of course everyone dies in the end. And I wouldn’t die, I would simply regenerate. Easy as that.”

“Easy as that. And what makes you think that?”

“Oh, it’s just… I feel it. Honestly, Jack, I know that something is coming, something that I can’t run from, something I will have to meet. Hopefully not my end. I mean, my _very_ end. That would be rubbish. Still, I’m sure a regeneration will be in order.”

“Nonsense.”

The Doctor has to resist the urge to say _Excuse me?_

Instead he gives Jack an irritated look. So that’s what you get when you pour your heart out. The Doctor quickly makes a mental note never to do it again. Jack however seems totally unfazed. As if the death of this incarnation of the Doctor is nothing to even consider.

“You’re not going to die-“

“I know I’m not. Regenerate, easy. I’ve done this before.”

“Then why do you look so afraid?”

Although the Doctor tries to cover it up, the question throws him off track. When he looks at Jack, he is sure that he has never looked more vulnerable to him. He tries to say something but fails. He doesn’t know how to explain this. Mainly because he himself isn’t sure about his… feelings and all that stupid stuff.

“I’m not afraid. Apprehensive, perhaps, maybe. And I… well… you know.”

“Hhm.”

One of the suns peeks over the horizon, threatening the still glowing moon with her distant silver-gilt sunbeams. Still, she is far from rising. The shadows are only starting to fall.

Jack eyes the Doctor curiously.

“You know what I always thought? That I keep on dying and you keep on living.”

“Only that your life is more of a life and my death more of a death.”

“Okay, if you’re trying to confuse me, just… stop.”

“As you say, Captain.”

After a moment they can’t resist smiling at each other but Jack sobers again quickly. And then he says the thing that the Doctor actually wants to hear even though he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. Reassurance.

“If you die – and I don’t say you will because, let’s face it, you’re _the_ _Doctor_ – trust me, it won’t be alone. I will be there when you regenerate. If you want me to be there, I’ll be there. And contrary to popular belief I know that this sounds… kind of _cheesy_ and I’m not really good at giving speeches, I’m a man of action, you the brain, me the brawn, and I don’t think it actually needs saying but then again it’s you, so just to make sure: I will always be there for you, Doctor. You know that. And I’m not talking about the whole I’m-immortal-and-will-be-around-forever-thing. You just have to call, show up, whatever, I’m there. I’m here to stay and eternity is a fucking long time and I think that in hundreds of years the sight of an old friend might be pretty nice, so it’s actually a selfish thing.”

The Doctor squirms uncomfortably at Jack’s words, thinking that he doesn’t deserve them but at the same time he can’t help but feel relieved. He sighs and looks over to the tree, wondering what the ceremony would have been like.

“No it’s not.”

“Yeah it is. You know me.”

“I beginning to think you know me better.”

“I don’t think anyone knows you at all, least of all you.”

“That Ianto bloke is pretty nice. Very pretty. I like him. Are you and him…?”

He wants to say _a couple_ but he knows that Jack has a real dislike for the word. Item? In the end he doesn’t need to say anything because Jack simply nods, unfazed by the non-sequitur, keeping his gaze on the slowly rising sun that lightens up his face and the reminiscing loving smile that slightly tugs at his lips.

“He’s great.”

Suddenly his expression darkens as if he was hit by a realization.

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve him.”

“Now that is something I never thought I’d hear you say.”

The half-hearted attempt at a light-hearted comment doesn’t banish the worry that clouds Jack’s eyes all of a sudden and the Doctor realizes that he will never have to ask or question whether Jack loves that man or not. Jack of course being Jack isn’t limited to one person but the Doctor quite clearly sees that this Ianto is special to Jack. An uneasy feeling forces its way through the Doctor’s chest and he doesn’t know what to make of it so he clears his throat.

For a moment he is tempted to reach out to Jack, crossing the distance between them, as they stand several feet apart, watching over the beautiful placid landscape lying before them, their coats billowing in the soft breeze.

The moment passes without anything happening. Jack stares into the sun, barely blinking, while the Doctor watches him out of the corner of his eyes. Somehow he feels that the moment will never come again, that he has forfeit a chance, missed an opportunity, that now there is some kind of barrier separating the inseparable. But maybe he is wrong, maybe the barrier was always there and will always be there. And maybe it’s his fault. Maybe he missed something long ago that can never be regained. Still, as Jack just reminded him, he won’t have to fear what the future holds for him. The Doctor never did, anyway. And in any case, the only thing that is certain about his future is that it will hold a place for Jack. Jack himself claimed that place. The Doctor doesn’t know why he still feels unsure as he looks at Jack, unsure about Jack and his future and everything. He can’t dispel the anxiety that is nestled deep in his heart, forged by him feeling the approaching darkness and knowing the truth, knowing time, even if only in possibilities.

“So, how about we take a closer look at that tree before we leave empty-handed?”

Jack turns to the Doctor expectantly who simply shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I’d say that’s an excellent idea, my dear Captain. Avanti!”

The scent of past adventures lies in the air as the two of them start running.

It is only when they reach the tree that they see the person sitting leaned against its trunk. It is an old somewhat humanoid man with yellowish hair and purple skin. He stands up warily and when they approach him, he greets each of them with a slap. The Doctor laughs as he rubs his cheek and lightly slaps the old man back. Jack hesitates but the Doctor motions for him to do the same and with a shrug the Captain obliges. The old man struggles a bit after being hit not so lightly by Jack who merely shoots the scowling Doctor a glance saying _it wasn’t on purpose_ and then proceeds to lend the man a hand with steadying himself.

“Oh no, son, don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“If you say so, gramps.”

The Doctor narrowing his eyes at him causes Jack to gesture _what now?_ and then the Doctor steps forward.

“Actually, don’t mind him, I’m the Doctor by the way-“

“Captain Jack Harkness, nice to meet you.”

Grinning, Jack pats the old man on the shoulder. The Doctor gives Jack a baffled look.

“Seriously, Jack? Him? _A time and a place_ ring a bell?”

“To be honest, I just wanted to see the look on your face. You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

The Doctor is about to protest that preposterous statement but he catches himself, shakes his head and then turns his attention to the man again, telling himself to _focus_.

“I’m sorry, we won’t keep you busy for long, in fact we were just wondering whether there wasn’t an anniversary ceremony scheduled for, well, actually right here, right now.”

“Oh, there was. You are the Doctor, aren’t you? You haven’t changed at all.”

All of a sudden the voice of the old man is filled with awe and he touches the Doctor’s face with a completely awestruck expression.

“Uh, yes, yes, I am. I just told you who I was.”

Questioning the sanity of the man, the Doctor simply looks at Jack who nods in silent agreement.

“So, where is everyone?”

The old man inhales sharply and stares at the Doctor as if he saw him clearly for the first time.

“Oh, they’re all dead. I’m the only one left.”

“Oh.”

Not quite what the Doctor had in mind when he thought of a celebration of himself. He feels sick at heart.

“How…?”

“War. Oh, the peace treaty lasted for very long. Very, very long… but then a meteor crashed into this planet and the survivors fought among themselves… now there is only me left.”

The Doctor shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Something isn’t quite right. Jack comes to his aid, checking his vortex manipulator whose only disabled function fortunately remains the time travel.

“But the readings say that this planet is populated. Millions of life forms, and not just primitive.”

The old man doesn’t reply and just rocks back and forth, staring into space. Jack looks with concern at the Doctor who looks equally concerned. The Doctor grabs the old man’s upper arms.

“Listen to me. I need to know what happened, just – look at me!“

“He doesn’t hear you anymore.”

The blue blooms on the ground mute his steps as Jack strides over to the Doctor and places his hand on his shoulder. The Doctor can feel the warmth even through the cloth but he tries to control his shaking so that Jack won’t notice. He isn’t sure he succeeds and then he wonders whether there is a point, a breaking point, where he can take no more. Whether there will ever be. Because he just goes on and on and nothing seems to do the trick. He thinks of Jack who has lived through so much and sometimes is so alike to him and yet still has the sacrifices to make that he made.

“I need to know.”

Even his voice is close to shaking but Jack’s grip simply tightens and the Doctor knows what he has to do.

“I’m… sorry.”

The Doctor tries not to say it but he can’t and it only drives him crazier. He places his slender fingers kindly on the temples of the old man and closes his eyes, reaching out into the darkness.

“There you go.”

falling…

falling…

falling…

falling…

…

..

.

When the Doctor opens his eyes again, he closes the eyes of the old man and carefully lays him down. Jack moves behind him.

“Is he… dead?”

“Asleep.”

The darkness seems to have reached into the Doctor, too, because black storms swirl in his eyes as he stands up, his face a complete mask. He slowly looks up at the tree and the deep blue flowers it carries. All the rage contained in him is cold and calm, icy where it was fiery in his last incarnation. And still Jack isn’t intimidated, doesn’t shrink back. Because he knows. And he waits. Waits for the Doctor to talk.

At last the Doctor takes a breath and looks at Jack, now more at peace.

“Apparently the ceremony would have consisted of me taking all the decayed blue flowers and staining them red. Then I was to attach them back to the branches, for them to dangle in the wind for all eternity. Or the next anniversary, obviously.”

The Doctor smiles but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But, well, since there is no ceremony, not anymore, I’d say we pack our bags and bring you back home.”

“Home?”

“Torchwood. Cardiff. The Hub. Your team.”

He doesn’t say _Ianto_ for a reason unknown to him.

“Right. Of course.”

“What do you think I meant?”

“Oh, just… the Tardis. You could’ve meant the Tardis. Not bringing me back there but there was a time when –“

“Yes, there was.”

The Doctor can’t stand looking Jack in the eye and lowers his gaze. Absent-mindedly he twiddles with something he has found in his bigger-on-the-inside-pockets.

“Right.”

Jack puts his arms akimbo and clicks his tongue.

“I don’t see any reason why we can’t do the ceremony all the same, on our own.”

At that the eyes of the Doctor shoot up. He shifts his balance from one leg to the other.

“Why would we? It’s pointless.”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

The Doctor rubs his eyes.

“Truth to be told, Jack, I’m too tired for this.”

The Captain silently examines him for a moment before he continues with a sigh.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on but I think you need this. It’s not your fault that these stupid people had to go all Rambo on each other, you brought them peace, what they did with it was their responsibility. And it wasn’t even them, it was a fucking meteor.”

“Oi, keep the meteor out of it! It wasn’t his fault. It was just a… poor meteor.”

“So it was their fault. Not yours anyway. You can’t blame yourself for everything that happens and… I think I should know. We do what we do with the best of intentions and sometimes we fail and sometimes we let people down. So what? You have saved more people than you have failed. And what would the universe be if you didn’t try? Well, I don’t know, but I reckon it wouldn’t be a better place. So let’s honour you. Just this one time. Let us think of all the good you did. Let’s not feel guilty for every single fuck-up there is.”

The Doctor has to grin despite himself.

“Don’t you think that’s easier said than done?”

“What would we be if we didn’t try?”

And so they begin in solitary mood. They both toss their coats aside. They collect the flowers from the ground. They colour them deep red. They put them back in their place. And as they are finished, both sweating and panting despite the cold, witnessing the triple suns finally rise and the sky being steeped in a vibrant gold reflecting on the still water, now no longer pale but glowing, Jack suddenly feels the urge to ask the Doctor something, something he hasn’t thought of in a long while.

“Doctor…”

“What is it now? Another rousing speech?”

“Haha. Funny.”

“I try. Sometimes. Not really. I’m a natural.”

“I bet you are.”

“So, what is it?”

“This is vanity showing again, I guess, but… you really don’t know what will happen to me over the years? How they will change me? I mean, physically, of course. Any idea?”

For a moment the Doctor doesn’t say a word. Then he averts his gaze, glancing at the distant horizon.

“Time’s tide will smother you.”

The smooth surface of the lake has begun to glitter.

“That’s… comforting? Not really.”

It takes some moments before it dawns on Jack.

“Wait a minute… isn’t that from a Smiths song?”

“Yup.”

The red flowers sway ever so slightly in the wind.

 

\---

 

He didn’t think of Jack once during the day.

He returned to the Hub with Gwen and sent her home to Rhys.

He added a file about the Anydros to the archives.

He cleaned up the Hub.

He hung up a photo of both Tosh and Owen in their workplace.

He poured the cold coffee away that they had just left when they ran off on their hunt.

And in truth, he thought of Jack all the time.

Now Ianto lies in Jack’s bed under his office, finally checking the watch, something he tried to avoid all along. He sighs, wraps the blanket tighter around himself and closes his eyes, desperately trying to sleep. He isn’t sure what Jack will think when he sees him lying in his bed without invitation but somehow he is sure that Jack will appreciate seeing him when he comes back. Whenever that might be. After all, the Doctor isn’t known for his punctuality. Or that’s what Ianto gathered from Jack’s bedtime stories.

Sometime later when he’s about to drift into an uneasy sleep, devoid of any comforting dreams, he suddenly hears noise upstairs and shortly after that the hatch opens, letting the light stream down, and someone starts climbing down the ladder.

And although Ianto wants to jump up with joy and hug the senses out of Jack (he knows it’s Jack because he knows the pattern of his steps), something tells him that he should leave Jack alone for now and so he keeps his eyes firmly closed.

Soon he feels an arm sneak around his waist, pulling him gently against another warm body, apparently trying not to wake him. And as Jack snuggles up to him from behind, he feels his breath on his ear, tickling his skin and he hears something just above a whisper, almost inaudible, sounding sad and happy at the same time. Maybe a little sadder. But then again it’s just a whisper, for him not meant to be heard.

“I love you.”

A single hot tear escapes the corner of Ianto’s eye. He smiles.

 

\---

 

After Jack is gone, the Doctor suddenly remembers that there was a moment where it seemed like Jack wanted to tell him something, talk to him about something. And he feels bad because he realizes that all they have talked about is him.

So he phones Martha and she tells him what he doesn’t want to hear, that Jack has lost two of his crew members not long ago and that he seems to be taking it to heart more than usually. She wants to talk some more, he can feel it, probably about her upcoming wedding but he excuses himself and hangs up on her, reasoning with himself that he’ll deal with Jack first.

The Doctor knows how much it means to her and he will be there on her important day, at least he plans to be, but right now he feels that Jack needs him. And this time he will be a proper friend and listen.

The Tardis comes to a halt again on the exact same spot he just saw Jack off.

_“Don’t be a stranger.”_

Well, he won’t. Quite the opposite.

As the Doctor steps into the empty Hub, the first thing he notices is the darkness. Someone must have turned the lights off that were still on just moments ago, probably left on by that Ianto boy for Jack. Still, a weak stream of light emits from Jack’s office so the Doctor heads there.

When he enters the office, he sees that the light comes from a hole in the floor, the source lying underneath. For a moment he hesitates. He doesn’t want to be an intruder. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to run away again.

So the Doctor approaches the porthole warily, carefully making sure not to make a sound. He wonders whether Jack always sleeps at work, whether he never goes home, whether this really is his home.

And then he hears laughter. Quiet and stifled but nonetheless. And two voices talking. He can’t hear what they say but he doesn’t need to.

His chest clenches and he swallows hard. Then the Doctor turns on the spot and bows out of the room soft-footedly.

The Tardis welcomes him with a warm hum but somehow he can’t embrace it. As he props up on the console and looks around, he suddenly knows that this is how he will meet his end. Alone. No matter what Jack said.

A vast hollowness fills him, bleeding from the outside into him.

But there is still some hope left. The knowledge that Jack is a constant, a fixed point in time and space, that even if he isn’t there, he is somewhere and he always will be.

And they have time. The Doctor tells himself, he has time.

And he feels for Ianto. And everyone else they touch.

And he thinks of Jack and that he is only what he is now because of Rose and because he wasn’t able to stop her.

And he will keep on going. In this moment, the Doctor is determined. He won’t yield, he won’t regenerate when he doesn’t want to.

He will do what he always did, travel the universe, sometimes alone, sometimes not.

And the Doctor knows that he and Jack will meet again and again and that there will be missed chances and maybe that is all there ever will be.

Not just until the end of the universe.

Until the end of time.


End file.
